Midnight Rider

by Diana Palmer

  Colston was struck dumb. He just stared, breathless, mindless, at the tall man beside him. After a minute he let out the breath he was holding. “You’d marry her? Her!”

  Muscles clenched all over Eduardo’s body at the way the man referred to his daughter, but he nodded.

  “I’ll be damned!”

  Eduardo didn’t reply. He looked down at Bernadette’s unloving father and waited.

  Colston let out another rush of breath and put a hand to his forehead. “Well, this comes as a shock. I mean, you and the girl don’t even like each other. You fight all the time.”

  “It would be a merger,” he pointed out, “not a love match. Bernadette will be cared for.”

  “But, man, you’ll want an heir. She can’t give you a child!”

  Eduardo’s brows drew together. “Why?”

  “Her mother and her older sister both died in childbirth,” Colston said. “The girl is terrified of having a child. It’s the reason she fights me so hard about arranging a marriage for her. You didn’t know?”

  Eduardo shook his head. He looked worried, and he was. “I assumed that she didn’t want to be forced to marry a man only because he had a title.”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid.” Colston sighed heavily. “She’s not as frail as her mother and sister, even with her weak lungs. But she has an unnatural fear of childbirth, and with good cause. You might never be able to—” The older man stopped and coughed uncomfortably. “Well, I’m sure you understand.”

  There was a long silence. It was a disappointment, but it still didn’t alter the facts. If Eduardo didn’t do something, and soon, he was going to lose Rancho Escondido for good. He could live without a son for the time being. Later on, after he had his precious heritage safe from the bankers and the courts, he could worry about Bernadette’s aversion to pregnancy.

  “I would still like to marry her,” Eduardo said.

  Colston was shocked and delighted. “My dear boy,” he said, grasping Eduardo’s hand to shake it fervently. “My dear boy, I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me!”

  “It won’t make her happy,” Eduardo pointed out solemnly. “And I think it would be best not to mention to her that we’ve spoken.”

  “I see. You want to win her.”

  Eduardo shrugged. “I will court her,” he corrected. “Formally and very correctly. There is no need to make her feel like a bargain bride in the process.”

  “It won’t be easy,” Colston said. “She’s already run off one prospective suitor,” he recalled darkly. “Damned little nuisance that she is, she takes pleasure in defying me! She’s a prickly thing at best.”

  Eduardo knew that, but he was remembering what had happened in the conservatory. Bernadette was vulnerable to him physically. He could play on that attraction, use it to win her. It wasn’t going to be particularly hard, either. He felt like something of a blackguard for arranging things this way, but he was running out of choices. He could never work for wages or go begging to his grandmother for money. If he lost the ranch, those would be his only choices. He would rather slit his own throat.

  “What do you want me to do?” Colston asked suddenly.

  “Invite me to the ball, of course,” came the dry reply. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Done!”

  * * *

  BERNADETTE, TOTALLY UNAWARE of the plotting that was going on around her, got over her asthma attack and helped Maria in the kitchen.

  “Ah, el conde is such a man,” Maria said, still dreamy as she made bread in the old wooden bread tray. “Such a man. And he carried you into the house in his arms.”

  Bernadette colored, embarrassed. “I was faint,” she said curtly. “The pollen in my flowers had reduced me to coughing spasms that I couldn’t control.” She shifted as she stacked plates. “Besides, you know that there’s nothing between me and Eduardo. He doesn’t like me.”

  “Liking is not always a necessity, señorita. Sometimes it is an obstacle.” She glanced at the other woman mischievously. “He is very handsome, is he not?”

  “Compared to what?”

  “Señorita!” Maria was shocked. “Surely you would find him more suited to your taste than some of these pendejos that your father invites here in the hope of marrying you off.”

  Bernadette toyed with a fork. Her eyes were sad with recollections of them. “Dukes and counts and earls,” she murmured. “And not all of them lumped together would make one good man.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be sold to some man for a title, just so my father can rub elbows with people like the Rockefellers and the Astors.” She glanced at Maria. “He doesn’t understand. You have to be born into those circles. You can’t belong to them just because you’ve got a little money. My father isn’t a cultured man. He’s what they call a jump-up. He’ll never move in the circles of high society, regardless of how well I marry. Why can’t he be happy among people who like him?”

  “Always a man seeks at least one thing that he cannot have,” Maria said philosophically. “I suppose we must have dreams.”

  “Yes. Even women.” She smiled thoughtfully. “You know, I’d like to be able to go to the theater unescorted, or sit in a restaurant alone, or go mountain climbing. I’d like to wear trousers and cut off my hair and work at a job.” She saw the other woman’s shocked face and laughed. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “These things,” Maria said uncomfortably, “are for men.”

  “They should be for everyone. Why should men have all the rights? Why should they be able to make slaves of women? Why should they have the right to keep us from voting, from helping to make the laws that govern us? I keep all the books for my father, I tell him when to buy and when to sell, I even handle the budget. He admits that I do an excellent job as bookkeeper, but does he pay me for my work? No. Family, he says, doesn’t pay family for helping out!” She pointed a finger at Maria. “You mark my words, one day there’ll be an uprising against all this injustice.” She was getting too emotionally aroused. Her chest began to feel clogged and she started coughing.

  Maria poured coffee quickly into a dainty china cup and handed it to Bernadette. “Here. Drink it. Rapidamente...rapidamente.”

  Bernadette did, barely able to get several swallows down her convulsing throat. She sat and bent forward, hating the spells that kept her from being a normal woman.

  “There. It is better?” Maria asked a few moments later.

  “Yes.” Bernadette took a slow, careful breath and sat up. She looked at Maria ruefully. “I guess I’d better be less emotional about my ideas.”

  “It might help.”

  She put a hand to her chest. “I wonder how it is that Eduardo knows what to do when I have an attack?” she asked, because his careful handling of her had been puzzling.

  “Because he asked me and I told him,” Maria said simply. “It disturbed him that he came upon you once in this condition and had to get your father to tend you. You remember,” she continued irritably, “your father was entertaining a friend and he was very angry that he had to be interrupted. He and el conde had words about this, although you were never told.” She shrugged. “Afterward, el conde came to me and asked what to do for you. He was furious at your father for his insensitivity.”

  Bernadette’s heart jumped. “How odd. I mean, he doesn’t even like me.”

  “That is not so,” Maria said with a gentle smile. “He is tender with you. It is something one notices, because he has little patience with most people. My Juan says that the other vaqueros are very careful not to annoy el conde, because his temper is something of a legend. He never seems to lose it with you.”

  “That doesn’t stop him from mocking me, from being sarcastic. We argue all the time.”

  “Perhaps he does it because you treat him in the same way. And he may not want you to know that he likes you.”

  “Ha!”

  Maria made a face at her. “All the same, he is kin
d to you.”

  “When it suits him.” Bernadette didn’t want to think about how she’d behaved with Eduardo earlier. It embarrassed her to recall how close she’d come to begging him to kiss her. She had to make sure that they weren’t alone again. It wouldn’t do to have him pity her. Better to keep him from ever finding out how violent were her feelings for him.

  * * *

  HER FATHER DID NOT RETURN TO the house until long after Eduardo had left. He paused to check on the repainting of the ballroom before he joined his daughter in the living room.

  Giving her a hard look, he went to pour himself a brandy. “Eduardo said you were feeling poor,” he said stiffly. He never seemed to unbend with her, as he used to with her brother. There was always distance between them.

  “Yes, I was,” she replied calmly. “But as you see, I’m better now. It was only the pollen from the flowers. It bothers my lungs.”

  “Along with dust, perfume, cold air and ten thousand other things,” he said coldly. He stared at her over the brandy snifter, his small eyes narrowed and calculating. “I expect you to dress appropriately for the ball. You can take the carriage and go to town. I’ll have Rudolfo drive you. Buy something expensive, something that makes you look the daughter of a wealthy man.” He waved a hand at the plain, blue calico dress she was wearing. “Something that doesn’t look homemade,” he added.

  She stiffened, wishing with all her heart that she could tell him what she really thought of his treatment of her. But she had no choice at the moment. If her situation ever changed, she promised herself, this self-important little jackass was going to get an earful!

  “It was you who told me to make my own clothes so that I wouldn’t be a financial burden on you, Father,” she said.

  He colored. “The whole purpose of this ball is to find you a husband!”

  “And you a titled son-in-law!” she said, rising to her feet with bristling fury. “So that you can mingle with the ‘right sort of people.’”

  “Don’t you speak to me like that!” he said furiously.

  “Then don’t you treat me like a disease you might catch!” she returned, green eyes sparkling with temper. “I can’t help it that I’ve got bad lungs, and I never asked to be born! I don’t need second sight to know that you blame me for my mother’s death!”

  He took a sharp breath and seemed to grow two inches. “Sure and that’s just what you did,” he said through his teeth. “You killed her.”

  “Through no fault of my own,” she replied. Her heartbeat was so rapid and forceful that it was making her whole body shake. She could barely breathe. She hated arguing. It brought on the dreaded attacks. But she wasn’t going to back down. “You won’t get her back by treating me like your worst enemy, either.”

  He took a huge swallow of brandy and let out a rough sigh. “I loved her more than my own life,” he said almost to himself. “She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. I never could understand what she saw in me, but she was the very heart of me. Then you came,” he added, turning to her with eyes as cold as they had been tender when he spoke of his late wife. “And my Eloise was gone forever.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she said.

  He glared at her. “It wasn’t anyone else’s,” he retorted. He finished his brandy and put down the snifter. “Well, I may have lost my treasure, but I’ll get some satisfaction from seeing you properly wed.” He gave her a long, calculating look. “I’ve invited two European noblemen to the ball.”

  “Both impoverished, no doubt,” she said mockingly.

  The glare was more fierce. “They both come from fine European families and they need wives. And so help me, if you dare to embarrass me as you did the last time—blacking your teeth and wearing pants, for the love of Christ!—I will—”

  “It was your own fault,” she interrupted with more courage than she actually felt. It didn’t do to show weakness to this man. “You can tell your new candidates that they needn’t look for a wife here,” she said stubbornly.

  “They can and they will. You’ll marry who I say,” he told her in an uncompromising tone. “You can rant and rave all you like, but you’ll do it! Otherwise,” he added harshly, “I’ll put you out, so help me, I will!”

  She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. Her face went deathly white as she stared at him with eyes like saucers. “Would you, then?” she returned. “And who’d keep your books and balance your accounts, pay your bills and keep you to a budget so the ranch is financially sound?”

  His fists clenched by his side. “I fought off Indians and Northerners and people who hated me because I was Irish when I worked on the railroads! And yet even all that was less trouble than you give me every day of me life! You took Eloise from me! Does bookkeeping make up for that?”

  She sat down and stared at him, praying that her lungs wouldn’t go into spasm yet again. You could never show weakness in front of the enemy!

  Colston let out the breath that was choking him. Only then did he seem to realize what he’d said to her. He moved to the window and looked out, his back ramrod stiff. “That was a bit harsh,” he bit off. “I wouldn’t really throw you out. You’re me only daughter, in spite of everything. But don’t go against me, girl,” he cautioned. “I mean to have respectability, and there’s nothing I won’t do to get it. You’ll marry!”

  “A man I don’t even know.” She was fighting tears of rage and impotence. “A stranger who’ll take me to some cold foreign country to die.”

  He whirled. “Sure and you won’t die, you little fool!” he exclaimed. “You’ll have maids and other servants to look after you. Someone to cook and clean for you. You’ll be treated like a queen!”

  “I’ll be an interloper,” she returned. “Unwanted and hated because I’ve been married for your money!”

  He threw up his hands. “I offer you the world, and you want to put labels on everything!”

  She was dying inside. He was going to sell her, and she’d never see Eduardo again. Never, never...

  “There is an alternative,” he said after a minute.

  She looked up.

  He studied his boots, caked with mud. “You might consider marrying Eduardo.”

  Her heart went right up into her throat. She put a hand to it, to keep it from jumping out onto the floor. “Wh-what?”

  “Eduardo!” He stared at her, planted with feet wide and both hands behind his back. “He’s a widower, and what polite society would call a half-breed, but he does have a title. His family is connected to European royalty.”

  She laughed, almost choking in the process. “Eduardo wouldn’t want me,” she said bitterly. “He hates me.”

  “He might be willing to marry you,” he continued, careful not to mention the conversation he’d had with the man. “Especially if you tried to improve yourself a little, if you dressed up and smiled at him once in a while. He’ll have competition at the ball. Two other men, both titled. It might make him sit up.” He looked away, so that she couldn’t see the unholy glee in his eyes. He’d frightened her enough that Eduardo now looked like salvation itself. He congratulated himself silently on his shrewdness. So much for her stubborn refusal to consider a match of his choosing. She could be won over, with the right words and strategies.

  “He’s said that he doesn’t want to remarry,” she continued.

  “He’s also said that he doesn’t want to lose his inheritance,” he reminded her. “If his past wasn’t so unpleasant, his old grandmother could help him make another match in Spain, as she did with his late wife. But his wife died under mysterious circumstances and his mother has become embroiled in some new scandal back East. She isn’t Spanish at all—his mother is a Texas heiress who comes from German and good Irish stock.”

  “I know that. She lives in New York with her second husband. Eduardo hates her.”

  He didn’t know how she knew that, but he didn’t push his luck. He folded his arms over his chest. “It’s because of what his mother’s
done that his grandmother is determined to leave her wealth to his second cousin. Not only is he completely Spanish, but he has no scandal about him.”

  “Eduardo told you that?”

  He nodded. “Some time ago, of course,” he added evasively. “They say the old lady’s coming here to stay with him for the summer.”

  “He’ll be glad, I imagine. He loves his grandmother.”

  “Pity it isn’t mutual.” His small eyes riveted themselves to her face. “Well, what do you think of marrying Eduardo?”

  She swallowed. “I would...be willing, I suppose,” she said with just the right touch of reluctance, “if it would save me from having to live in some foreign place.”

  He felt like dancing a jig, but he didn’t dare let his stubborn daughter know how much her acceptance pleased him. Sometimes he even liked her for her spirit—so long as he didn’t remember what she’d cost him with her birth. Honest to God, she was almost a mirror image of him in temper. “Then suppose you go into town as I suggested and find a nice gown to wear to the ball?”

  She drew in a long breath. “I suppose I could do that.”

  “Go to Meriwether’s, where I have an account. Buy whatever you need.”

  She stood up. “Eduardo’s title is only good in Europe,” she began.

  He held up a hand. “It’s good anywhere,” he said stiffly. “Even in Texas. He’s only half Spanish, but most people will overlook that because of his European relations.” He gave her a long, unpleasant look. “Considering your lack of beauty and the state of your health, I really think it would be overly optimistic to think that a European would want you. We’ll be lucky indeed if Eduardo is willing to take you on.”

  “I’m not so much a burden as you like to think, Father. I do earn my keep. I’m quite good with figures and budgets. Eduardo might even find me an asset, given his present circumstances.”

  He shrugged. “You’re useful enough when you’re well. But you’re quite often sick, Bernadette.” He turned away heavily. “It’s the memories you bring back,” he said in a rare moment’s honesty. “I see her face as she died, hear her scream, feel my heart break and break inside my body.” He put a hand absently to his chest. “I loved her so!”